Along the Path of Dreams
by Pyralis Dawn
Summary: Based off of a very strange dream that occured to me. It's a rather old story, and rather wordy. But I'd still like to know your opinions- please RR


**Along the Path of Dreams**

  
  
The trees stood tall and fair about me, their leaves waving in the light, cool breeze as I swiftly ran about the forest. There were many pines and willow, birch, and oak that were the tall halls of nature. Moreover I suppose it wasn't big enough to be a forest. Perhaps a wood. A small wood, too small to be accounted for on the maps of Beleriand beside the river Narog north of Nargothrond. Yet it seemed larger to me inside among the trees than without. But lack, I stray from my point.   
  
I danced among the trees near the edge of the river when then I heard a voice. I stopped my foolish frolic for a moment and gave ear. It was indeed a voice, a fair voice singing a song that was fair, and yet so full of sorrow beyond the comprehension of Men as myself. I saw just yonder a light: the kind of light that pours from the sky on a clear blue morning. But it was now night, how could this be so? I betrayed the running water of the Narog and sought forth the light, and within a minute I came to a clearing where I saw an amazing sight as I had never seen the like before, or ever will. Upon the ground there lay ten elves, of the great realm of Nargothrond, and upon them spilled the watery-light, flittering for a moment upon their raiments.   
  
The source of the light was a more elegant and mystifying creation: a large, long stone basin filled with water, with many intricate designs and letters along the curved rim that curled under on the very edge. The water seemed to be illuminated by something, something set in its bottom. Sitting on a large rock beside the basin was another elf: he was fairer and had a more kingly air about him than the others, and in his eyes was a light, a light of some I never had, or ever will see. In his hands he held a golden harp, and it was he who was singing as the light from the pool danced upon his face. It was then I took a bold step out from where I had hidden myself behind a tree.  
  
Suddenly the music stopped. The elves upon the ground sprang up, and more quickly than lightning drew arrows to their bows and swords from their sheaths. It took no more than half an instant for their eyes to find me, and I warily and slowly revoked my step. I was both fearful and delighted in the sight of such wonder, as I had never beheld. The elf who had sat upon the rock stood up, beckoning for me to come forward. I again retook my step forward. Little did I know of the Sindarin tongue, and even less of the customs of the elves. I had only a chance meeting with one once before, and that only for a few fleeting seconds. But for some reason beyond my understanding, he spoke not to me in his high language, but in my own tongue.  
  
"Who are you, young man, who comes upon the camp of Felagund and Beren?" I found myself not answering for the name of Beren so struck my mind. Beren; I knew that name, though from where it was recalled in my mind I knew not. Then the elves parted slightly, and out from behind them stepped a man; tall, dark haired and eyed but with a light in his face of also perceiving great beauty. Light. It was the dark if night, and yet there was so much light in this glade! Light In the water, light from the stars-- light from their eyes. All of them. Even the man. I was struck silent in awe. It then surprised me even more greatly, that he answered to the elf for me, sensing my inability to speak: "Felagund, do you not see in him, as you did of me, the house of Beor, or do you now need a ring to remind you? This here is Belegund, my father's brother-son-- my kin." He then turned and looked toward me. "Though I must ask, Belegund, what brings you here upon this hour of the night? Wither have your wonderings taken you of late?" He led me over and sat me down right beside the basin of water and light. I opened my mouth, but found that no words came out. Beren lowered himself to the ground next to me. "Do not despair good cousin, for I see your weariness; do not trouble yourself to speak. But I, moreover, have many tales to relate to you." He looked over in the direction of the kingly elf, who now looked upon me in delight. Swiftly did he return to the rock across the basin, and the other elves lowered their arms. Beren then spoke again to me. "I go to the land of doom, Belegund, and am not like to return."  
  
I suddenly found that now a short stream of words escaped my lips, though I had neither thought nor summoned them. "Why, O Beren, dost thou go into such dark and accursed places? For if thou seek hope for the Edain, surely it is not to be found in the deep chambers of evil!" But it seemed rather odd and out of place that a thin smile suddenly crossed his lips: one that seemed like the remembrance of a lost joy. "I hath met an elf maid, Tinuviel I call her, for her dance and song are more fair and beautiful than that of the nightingale. To her kin I went and asked for her hand; but Grey Cloak insisted I might only have her hand for a silmaril of the iron crown of Melkor. For this reason I surrender my fate to my heart, and my heart to my fate; though I know not which shall lead me to the right path, or if they point in the same direction." He stared at the basin of water, almost in a glaze.   
  
The moonlight danced across the surface, brighter than before—or was it really the light that danced? For it seemed to form limbs, and a head; it was wearing a flowing gown of midnight, and danced more beautifully and gracefully than any person or thing I have ever seen. The long dark hair that freely wisped about in and unfelt breeze, it's slender arms rotating in the air as the feet flitted about on the surface of the water. I too stared, enchanted, at the basin, watching the light maiden dance, for what seemed and eternity. But finally the light faded again to its watery sky-tone, and the maiden dispersed into wisps of white smoke, which floated away in the nightly breeze.  
  
I looked to Beren again, but said nothing for he appeared to be pained at sight and heart. The kingly elf, however, stood again and bent over the basin of water, and reached his hand down into it. At first I was startled by this silent and yet bold move, but when he withdrew his hand again he held a ring. The finest ring in all of Endor if I was ever to see it. It was a piercingly bright silver, engraved and intricately shaped into the form of two serpents, whose heads met with emerald eyes beneath a golden crown of flowers: one upholding it, the other devouring it. The emeralds of the eyes were the most entrancing. They were so wonderfully cut, so beautifully shaped, they took in the slightest amount of light and cast it back out again with six-fold the force, and with a sharp, green colour. I sat in awe upon the ground, for such elven beauties I beheld not until that moment.  
  
The kingly elf also stared upon the ring with a look of delight: like a master upon one of his creations. He heeded me again and spoke, his voice like the music of high bells to my ears. "Truly thou art of the house of Beor, though that is not my reason of favour toward you. For the lives of men I hold in my great interest. For not only are you of great intrigue, but to thyn uncle I am in eternal debt; to his bravery did spare my life." He removed from his vantage point on the rock and strode around the basin and stood tall above me, for still I sat upon the soft brown loam of the earth. It was as he handed the ring to Beren and his full head came into the light that I observed that his hair was of a golden shade, though all of his companions be dark. Upon it was a circlet of golden flowers made to look roughly the shape of a crown. Then my spine straightened and a spoke to him in great reverence- "T… t-thou are prince Finrod of the high elves!" I stumbled over the words that had been so clear and strong in my mind. I suppose I was simply astounded that I would have a chance meeting with such an esteemed person among both elves and men.   
  
Beren looked upon my delighted face with amusement. "He is the former king of Nargothrond, but was scorned by the sons of Feanor for the wish to aid me on my quest, and by all his kingdom apart from the loyal here. He lay his crown to the feet of his steward to depart and aid me here as he can. Indeed a more brave and noble man than I as he names me, for it is a much greater muster of courage to betray one's own royalty, spoils, and kingdom to go into exile and darkness of no hope than to defend one of such honours as a last hope." An odd glance passed between the two, one of medium and understanding, of brotherhood and deep friendship.   
  
Finrod made no returning comment, though his eyes shone again with the hidden light. He then returned to the rock, and pulled out from behind it a cloth sack, from which he drew three splendorous goblets of white gold: at the base there was a circlet of engraved round beads, many and little. The neck of the cup was thin, and the mouth itself not very large, but each adorned with a separate image. On two were trees: one engraved in silver, the other in gold. On the third goblet there were seven stars of what appeared to be diamond, set in a semi-circle above a mural of the earth.   
  
Finrod took the goblet with the silver tree, dipped it into the stone basin and drew out a full cup with water. He handed it over to me, saying, "You are thirsty? For we have plenty, and you appear to tire of such talk." I could say nothing, but nodded graciously and accepted the cup. I took a draught of it; it had a wonderful taste to it, neither bitter nor sweet, but fulfilling and delicious. Finrod filled the remaining cups (with the stars and the golden tree) for himself and Beren. And so we sat and drank is silence, though there was much conversing going on between the two of them, I could tell, for their eyes flitted back and forth, saying things without words. This went on for a long while, until all cups were drained and the moon began to wan.  
  
At final Beren spoke. "We must be getting on, I believe, for the night is doing so before us." He said, looking up to the sky. He took my empty goblet, and along with his own returned them to Finrod, whom placed them back to their proper sack. He stood from the rock once more, and summoned one of their ten companions. From him he took a small pouch and from it drew something he kept well hidden in hand. He then returned the Beren's side. He then grasped my right hand and drew it out into the air, and placed in it the item from the pouch. "For love of the race of mortal Men, I give you this small gift of Eldarin treasure, so that you may not forget whom your allies are. It is most likely that I shall never see you nor any of your folk again—save Beren—and I wish to part with the Atari in grace so our kin may remain ever truthful to one another." And in my hand was a wristband, a beautiful elven wristband made of bronze, bright bronze fashioned into two pieces that ran in a circle until they came to a certain point where the band remained open, as to fit any wrist that wore it. In the center on the top was a pendant fashioned onto the band that was a small, adamant portrait of Belegost. There were both a sun of gold and a moon of pearl in the dark sapphire sky, though the moon more prominent. There were flying birds cast in quartz, and the sea, the sparkling sea, with waves shimmering and light flitting about made of clam-shell pearl. They threw the moonlight in such a way it appeared as though they were really lapping around under the light of the white pearl moon.  
  
It was a sight rare and wonderful to behold, not only once, but again and again! I wondered that he had given it to me. Finrod then smiled, took my shoulders and steered me over to the side of the basin once again. "I am glad to have met you, Belegund, for now the race of men shall not forget me, nor I them. But now you must return whence you came, for it is time for our departure.   
  
"Here before you in this pool lay the gate to the Path of Dreams. If you would-" he said. I looked hard at the basin, and with a nod from him stepped into the shallow water. The writing the encircled the edges began to shine with every fragment of light that fell upon them, as though they were written with a quill dipped in starlight. But still, I could not read them. But that mattered little, as a more noticeable distraction caught my eye: the watery light began to spill out across the elongated basin, creating the illusion of a path of light. But as I followed it further up with my eyes I noticed that it left the water and continued on going up, up into the sky and the unknown.   
  
I took a wary step, placing my foot out into the air and bringing it down through—no, onto the light. My foot lay upon it, steady as if it were made of stone. I took another step onto it, this time more boldly. I was suspended awkwardly in mid-air upon a path of shining light. I began to walk up the path, higher and higher until I was in the night itself, and saw nothing before me but the deep blue sky and the stars. But then, even the stars went out, all went black, and I thought and saw no more.  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
I sit up quick as lightning. The pillows behind me are out of place and I have knocked my alarm clock off of the bedside table. Stupid, little robot alarm clock that wakes me up every morning at least two hours before my mind is able to function properly.   
  
What a ridiculous dream. I get up now out of bed- Brr! Under the quilt is so much warmer than out here. But that's alright, I can handle it. I need to see something. Look there, the mirror! Finally! Why does it have to be all the way on the other side of the room, it's so cold in here- but it's good now to see myself staring back. No Belegund indeed. Good to see that. Feminine features of a youth once again. Well, at least, that's one less thing to worry about- transformation during my sleep. What am I talking about?! I need more sleep. It's too early to think. But I have something more to see. And of course, my bookshelf, on the other end of the room again. But it's near the bed, that's good. I grab my copy of the Silmarillion and climb back under the warm quilt. Flip the bedside switch on for some more light- ah! That's better. I page through, now where is that chapter- ah! The tale of Beren and Luthien. There! Right there it says that Belegund died with Barahir. He couldn't have met Beren after he had died! And the maps- there is no wood north of Nargothrond along the Narog. And, surely Beren would not have been so rash to Felagund for not recognizing me- I mean, Belegund. And Belegund would have known how to speak Sindarin. And read it too. This is stupid. What a waste of sleep- I mean, really, if I'm going to dream about Finrod Felagund and Beren I might as well do it correctly. Must remember that, never trust my subconscious for accuracy- But, what- what's this?  
  
Gosh, a bracelet on the bedstand. I have to remember never to leave me jewelry out again. But this one is different- this wasn't here last night, but it looks familiar. It's a fine piece of jewelry, with a portrait pendant of the sea lapping in waves upon itself, cast in pearl, sapphire, bronze, and gold.  
  


END


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